


The Debating Society

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [5]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: 1840s London, Belonging, Class Differences, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Servants, Serving Classes, Victorian Philanthropy, below stairs, victorian london
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: The household held regular, heated late night debates, where they would all put the whole world to rights!-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Debating Society

**Author's Note:**

> Edited with the wonderfully patient and knowledgeable help of CookehCrumbla! Massive thanks to them, as always :0)

Mrs Brown had told him to make sure that he was in the upstairs living room at nine pm sharp. He thought it odd. _Is this some hilarious jape at my expense?_ Everyone knew that nine o'clock was when he usually did his final rounds of the property before retiring for the night: making sure that the house was secure, checking that all doors and windows were locked, and confirming that all lamps and candles were safely extinguished. He'd have to do that job later tonight after whatever would be occurring at nine. No one would tell him, and he very much _detested_ secrets.

-

As he drew near to the living room, it looked to be dark. The only light was from the candle he held. He stopped outside the door, pausing while wondering if he'd got the time correct. He checked his pocket watch. Nine pm on the dot. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Lady Morgan with a candle held in one hand and a small book in the other. _Not a joke then. Lady Morgan would never be party to something like that._

"Hello, Mr Turton. Do please enter," she extended her hand, gesturing towards the living room door.

He nodded and walked into the room.

Upon entering, the light of his and Mrs Morgan's candles revealed that the room had been rearranged. Extra chairs had been brought in. They, along with the two sofas that usually resided there, were arranged in a circle. The rest of the household staff filtered into the room past him. Each seated themselves until it was just himself and his Ladyship standing. There were two spare seats on one of the sofas. For him and Mrs Morgan he assumed. She turned towards him and gestured with an open palmed motion from him towards one of the two empty seats, indicating where he should sit.

“Please be seated, Mr Turton, we are all waiting on you.”

She waited for him to seat himself, which he did in a rather hesitant fashion. His brow crinkled, showing his nerves. Once he was seated, she settled herself down daintily in the spare seat next to him. She positioned herself so that she was facing him, sending him a smile to, hopefully, calm his anxiety.

"Welcome to the Most Honourable Morgan Household Debating Society, Mr Turton," she announced.

_The what now?_ he thought.

"But before you join, you need to be sworn in," she held the book that she was clutching out towards him. He noted the title: _The World_ by René Descartes.

"Please place your hand on the book and repeat after me, Mr Turton," she urged him, beaming up at him genially as she did so.

He checked around at the others, paying particular attention to Mrs Brown’s face. They all stared at him with expectant looks upon their faces. The intense pressure of all their heavy gazes gave him no choice but to comply. Not unless he wanted to look like an irritable old fool – which he admittedly was – for not wanting to participate. He reluctantly placed his hand upon the book, and spoke the words as asked.

"I, Mr Amos Turton, agree to allow the free expression of all views of everyone within this debating society, whatever their rank or gender."

Mrs Morgan clapped her hands together and released a happy laugh, relieved that he had chosen to participate.

"Right then," she said, "I call this month's meeting to order. Daisy, you're the Chairperson this time." She turned to Mr Turton. "The Chairperson is in charge of keeping order, deciding this month's topic, and appointing the prize for best speaker," she explained while Mrs Brown handed Daisy a perfect, bright red apple.

"What's today's topic Daisy?" Mrs Morgan asked.

"In honour of the wedding of Mary Todd Lincoln and President Abraham Lincoln, today's subject will be what makes a lasting marriage, if you please, Mrs Morgan,"

"You soft girl," Mrs Brown chuckled.

"I'm not, Mrs B!" she said indignantly. "And I shall start by saying that I think that love is what makes a perfect marriage."

"No, I think you're confusing love with money, Daisy," Turton interjected.

"Oh, Mr Turton, care to explain your stony-hearted stance?" Mrs Morgan asked him amusedly.

"Hmph. Well, in my opinion, you'll not get much food to feed starving mouths with love. That'll be money feeding the children. Money triumphs over love in all things. It was money that motivated me to the folly of my actions in my previous household," his fists clenched at the thought of his stupidity. "I did what I did through fear of the lack of money. It triumphed over any feelings of love I held for my employers," he finished angrily.

"Ah, but wasn't it the love of your position in life and for your home comforts that prompted you to make more money any way that you could?" Mrs Brown asked.

"Well, maybe so… “ he conceded bitterly. His face descended into a grimace, and he placed his hand firmly on his leg to prevent it from bouncing.

"What about love then, Mr Turton? What do you think about that?" asked Daisy. Her question pulled him from his annoyed retrospection.

"Well, I'm not exactly the best person to ask on that subject," he replied rather sourly.

"I think that people should only marry for love," Daisy said, a strange faraway look in her eyes.

Mr Turton laughed. "You'd best speak to all the gentry who seem to think that money is the best reason for marriage," he smiled triumphantly.

"We married for love," said Mrs Jones, sending a fond look towards her husband.

"That we did, my darling," replied Mr Jones as he squeezed his wife's hand.

"My husband and I had a marriage arranged by our parents, for money, just as Mr Turton said," Mrs Morgan added. She nodded her head in Mr Turton's direction, which elicited a smile from him.

"But then we grew to love each other," she added, a wistful smile upon her face as she remembered happy times.

"Maybe so," Mr Turton said, "but I'm willing to bet that it wasn't just love by itself that kept you together, Mrs Morgan, and you two as well," he added, pointing at Mr and Mrs Jones. He turned sharply, "and none of your _smutty_ answers Mrs Brown. We all know your opinions on _relations_ and have pre-noted them!"

This last sentence of his was met with a cacophony of sniggers and chuckles.

"Oh, well as long as it's been noted then, that I think a healthy sex life is a necessary part of a marriage," Mrs Brown added. This was met with more guffaws and titters, as well as Mr Turton's tutting.

"Thank you, Mrs Brown. Congratulations for lowering the tone as always!" Mr Turton added, chuckling somewhat himself as he shook his head.

"My pleasure, Mr Turton," Mrs Brown answered, winking at him, causing him to huff in exasperation.

"You're not wrong though, Mrs Brown," added Mr Jones as he kissed his wife's hand and waggled his eyebrows at her. More sniggering was heard from around the room.

"Trust. What about trust?" Mr Turton said, desperately trying to steer the subject away from such an unseemly one.

"Oh yes," said Mrs Jones. "I could always trust my Henry here not to hand me over to the peelers. We wouldn't still be together if I couldn't," she said, patting Mr Jones's hand.

"You're lucky, Mrs Jones. I could never trust my Bert. I never knew what trouble he'd be bringing to our door. I had to improvise excuses several times so as not to get carted off myself!" Mrs Brown shook her head as she remembered several such near misses with the police. "He never respected me either. Never cared for my opinions on anything. He never did think much on all the hard work I put into running the old Dog and Duck while he was off gallivanting around on his schemes," she added, her usual jovial face marred by an angry frown.

"Oh yes, you definitely need respect to make a marriage work. There's nothing better than that positive feeling when your husband does something to show how important you are to him. Or when they show a sense of admiration for what they feel are your most valuable qualities," Mrs Morgan reminisced.

"I can hear you sniggering again, Mrs Brown!" Mr Turton accused.

"Oh yes, my Bert certainly showed a sense of admiration for my two most valuable qualities," she aimed another wink towards Mr Turton who tutted and rolled his eyes. _Ridiculous woman!_

"And knowing that he cares, is concerned for and has consideration for your needs and feelings is so wonderful," Mrs Morgan continued as she wiped a tear from her eyes. "Sorry, I'm not sure what's come over me," she sniffed.

"Here," Mr Turton leaned over towards his distressed mistress and handed her a clean hanky from his pocket. He noted that Mrs Brown had pinned a particular smile on him. One of her _knowing_ smiles. _What's she spotted that I haven't again?_ he wondered.

"Thank you, Mr Turton. You're perfectly prepared for anything. A most excellent butler!" she dabbed at her eyes and offered him a tearful smile.

"What about you, Mr Turton? Do you have any thoughts on marriage?" Daisy asked.

"Hmph, I'm not exactly the best person to ask, never having actually been married before," he answered.

"There's time for you yet, Mr Turton," Mrs Brown said pointedly, sending him a wide beaming smile.

"I'd say that respect is definitely needed in any form of relationship, whether marriage, familial, or friendship. I'm not so certain of love though, Daisy," he admitted, remembering her earlier query towards him. "Apart from between myself and my mother, and a fleeting relationship in my distant youth, _which I will not be talking about!..._ " his voice raised in warning and he fired off a firm, angry glare towards Mrs Brown as he saw her mouth open. She snapped it closed and nodded. "… I've not had much experience of that particular emotion," he finished, his voice quiet and shy as he said that last sentence.

Mrs Morgan patted his arm, and Mrs Jones and Daisy cooed at him, telling him not to give up hope. Mrs Brown just _stared_.

"Look at you, Mr Turton," Mr Jones laughed, "you've got all these females fussing over you. I'd say that showing one’s vulnerable side is a sure-fire way to keep any lady happy, eh?"

The mantle clock chimed ten chimes, loudly announcing that it was time up for this month's meeting.

"So, Daisy, who gets tonight's prize?" Mrs Morgan asked, she turned a bright encouraging smile towards Daisy.

Daisy picked the apple up and walked over to Mr Turton. She held it out to him and then lent down to sneak a quick peck on his cheek as he took the apple from her hand.

"Don't worry, Mr Turton. We all love you very much," she blushed as she scampered away from him to stand behind Mrs Brown.

"Here, here!" exclaimed Mrs Brown.

"Agreed! You're part of the family now whether you like it or not," said Mrs Jones, her husband nodding in agreement.

Mrs Morgan placed her hand on his arm and squeezed it.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He hung his head, lost for words, not wanting to show how emotional he was feeling. His brusque exterior and hardened heart had been breached by all the kindness shown to him just now. It was something he was not used to, and he really was at a complete loss with how to deal with it. Give him a cracked crystal decanter, a disruptive footman, or a tarnished soup tureen any day over having to deal with emotions. He was a lone wolf, used to being part of a team yes, but he'd always been aloof from it, never actually _belonging_.

"Come on, Daisy, time for our beauty sleep," Mrs Brown announced as she stood up, "Ma'am," she nodded at Mrs Morgan as she ushered Daisy out.

"Come on, love, our bedtime too," Mr Jones said and pulled his wife out of the living room, both passing goodnights to Mrs Morgan and Mr Turton who was still sitting very still, hanging his head to hide his face.

"Mr Turton. Amos…?" Mrs Morgan asked, keeping her voice quiet and gentle, unsure of what his reaction would be. She held out the hanky he'd given her earlier. "Sorry, it's a little snotty, but it's still maybe ok." She joked. He ignored the offered item.

"Is it… Is it true?" he asked, his tone soft and hesitant. "Am I really part of the family here?" his voice was low and quiet, barely a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut before he looked up. He could feel that they were a little watery, but he needed to hold his tears back; he would not let himself make a silly scene.

"Oh! Yes! Of course you are! I can't imagine this house without you now. You're part of its fabric, like the rest of us," she offered him her brightest, most emphatic smile.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he sniffed. He returned her smile with one of his own. A little lopsided through lack of use, but nonetheless, still a recognizable smile.

She offered him his hanky back again. He let go of his prize apple, placing it on the table, next to his candle.

"That's alright, Ma'am, you hang onto that," he folded her hand around his hanky, enclosing it and her hand in both of his. He held them there for a few seconds, holding her gaze also, before reluctantly letting go of both and standing. He reached for his candle and his prize.

"I'd best get on and do my final rounds before turning in," he announced. "Goodnight, Ma'am."

"Goodnight, Mr Turton."

He nodded and exited, heading off to climb the stairs up to the top of the house where he always started his checks.

Mrs Morgan watched him go. He had a kind, soft smile, she thought. It was the complete opposite of his usual gruff, stony demeanour. She made a promise to herself that she'd make it her own personal mission to do her damnedest to extract more of them from him.

**Author's Note:**

> The Society of Cogers can claim to be the oldest “free speech” forum in the world – and quite possibly the oldest debating society in the world also. 
> 
> The Apple of Discord is the symbol of 'Cogers'. It is awarded to the speaker who makes the best contribution to the evening's debate.
> 
> The name 'Cogers' comes from Descartes' famous assertion, Cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore I am). As a "Society of Thinkers", the 'Cogers' is dedicated to the philosophy of letting everyone express their thoughts. The aims of the 'Cogers' were the promotion of the liberty of the subject and the freedom of the Press, the maintenance of loyalty to the laws, the rights and claims of humanity and the practice of public and private virtue.
> 
> At the end of the evening the traditional "Apple of Discord" is presented to the best speaker of the evening to the speaker who throughout the evening brought the greatest contribution, whether that be thoughtful, entertaining, controversial or outstanding. 
> 
> https://cogers.org/index.html


End file.
